You're Not Allowed to Volunteer
by RizzaMF
Summary: Okay, so everyone's probably wondered what would have happened if Katniss didn't volunteer for Prim. What did Prim go through in the Hunger Games? And though Prim claims to be the exact opposite of Katniss, are they really that different? I've discontinued this, so if anyone wants to take over the idea, PM me. I'd be willing to beta the rest of the story as well as share my ideas.
1. Chapter 1: Reaping Day

Author's Note: Hey! I'm really excited about this fanfic! I realize that there are probably a thousand other stories out there about what would have happened if Katniss didn't volunteer for Prim, but this was just an idea that came to me... Also this is my FIRST fiction, so I'm sorry if it's not good. Oh, I just made up the date of Reaping Day. Plus, I think I've actually came up with a realistic situation for Prim in the Games... Anyway, enjoy!

Today is Reaping Day. I am 12 years old.

Those are the first thoughts that course through my mind when I wake up on the morning of April 15th.

My name is Primrose Everdeen. I live in District 12, by far the poorest district in Panem. Each year, our district (as do all the others) send a boy and a girl between the ages of 12 and 18 to the Hunger Games, a cruel sporting event where the kids from each district, called tributes, fight to the death.

And how do these tributes get chosen? A reaping. On the annual Reaping Day, all children eligible to compete in the Hunger Games have their names thrown into a giant glass ball. 12-year-olds have their name in once, 13-year-olds twice, 14-year-olds thrice, and so on. An escort from the Capitol, the center of this madness, reaches the girls' bowl, pulls out a slip of paper, and reads the name of the girl that's about to die. The girl walks onto the stage, the lady asks if there's anyone who wants to go to the Games in the girl's place, which there never is, and then repeats the process for the boys. It's really quite sad.

You can put your name into the Reaping Ball more times for some wheat and grain, but although I haven't done this, my older sister, Katniss, has. Which means my name is only in the Reaping Ball once. But next year, it will be in one more time, and another time the year after that. And once Katniss is too old to be eligible for the Games, it'll be me putting my name in that stupid ball so I can feed myself and my mother.

Speaking of my mother, I've only now just remembered that she's sleeping beside me. I'm surprised that she's still asleep between me jerking upright when I first woke up, and my current heavy panting.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, I get out of bed and walk over to the ice box where our family keeps all our food. I grab some cheese from my goat, Lady, and take it over the table, where I eat it for breakfast. There would be more, but I left out some of it for Katniss to take hunting with her. As the thought of Katniss hunting crosses my mind, I shudder. "Don't think about it, Prim," I whisper to myself "Just think of it as 'getting food." Though I love Katniss, I don't understand how she can bear to kill innocent animals. But then, if she couldn't bear to kill innocent animals, our family might not be alive.

See, my family lives in an area of District 12 known as the Seam, where everyone's poor and any food is good food. We were doing okay while my father was still with us. But one day while he was working in the coal mines, there was an explosion and he died. That's all I remember, aside from the fact that I was very young. Anyways, after his death, Katniss hunting and her signing up for extra names in the Reaping have been the main source of food for the family. I am caught up in thoughts of sorrow when I feel something small and furry brush up against my leg.

"Hello, Buttercup," I whisper to the cat. Though he's the ugliest thing you've ever seen, he makes for good company in this wretched country. "What got you up, little boy?" I ask soothingly, scratching behind Buttercup's ear, "The last time I checked, you were asleep at the foot of my bed."

As if on cue, Buttercup meows and takes a few steps toward the beds. I see that my mother's leg now occupies the space where Buttercup previously slept, and I have to cover my mouth not to laugh at how picky that cat is. The laugh leaves me, however, the moment I once again remember what the day is.

I sigh, and walk over to my mother. "Mom," I say, prodding her shoulder with my index finger. "Mom, today's Reaping Day."

On the word "reaping," my mother bolts upright, similar to the way that I did earlier. "Let's get ready," she sings, springing out of bed.

"Mom, are you, uh, okay?" Why is she acting like this?

"Of course," she tells me but her smile falters for a moment.

"Look, mom, maybe you should-"

"Oh Prim," she cries. I was about to tell her to go back to bed. "Look at you, it's only been twelve years, and you're already twelve!" I'm about to remind my mom that this is simple mathematics, when she enfolds me in a bone crushing hug. As crazy as she gets on Reaping Days, I love my mother.


	2. Chapter 2: The Reaping

Author's Note: Onto the reaping! OoOoOoOoOo... SUSPENSE! And since I forgot to add a disclaimer to the first chapter:

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of the characters in this story. Suzanne Collins does. Also, some of the dialogue in this chapter is borrowed from the book.

I am standing in the midst of a crowd of fellow 12-year-old girls. I have long since gotten dressed up and eaten. But despite the fact that it's been over an hour since I devoured that delicious stew, I still feel like I'm about to lose my lunch.

The Reaping Ceremony will start in a matter of minutes. Deep down, I know I won't be picked, but I still have a really bad feeling about this whole thing. I wonder if everyone feels like this on their first reaping, or if I'm just overreacting. Either way, I want this to be over right now.

I stare at the stage set up in front of the Justice Building. There's a podium, three chairs, and two glass balls, each with thousands of paper slips. Only one of those slips has my name written on it. I hope it's shoved in the bottom.

In one of the three chairs sits the mayor. He seems to scare everyone but me and my sister. In another chair is a young woman named Effie Trinket, District 12's escort. With her huge pink wig and white makeup, she does scare me. The third chair is also empty, but I know who's supposed to sit there: Haymitch Abernathy, the our district's mentor and the only living victor from our district. He's probably about 40, and every year, he shows up at the reaping drunk. It's depressing.

A clearly bored voice carries itself through the square. It's the mayor, reading about the history of Panem. He lists all the disasters that occured, and the war the followed. He tells about the Dark Days, the rebellion in which District 13 was destroyed. Finally, after over 20 minutes of talking, he finishes up with the Treaty of Treason, and reads the names of the past victors from 12. While he's doing this, Haymitch stumbles onto the stage, drunk again. He launches himself into the empty chair and tries to hug Effie Trinket. She shakes him off, looking quite disgusted, and trots up to the podium as the mayor sits down.

Putting her smile back on, she squeals "Happy Hunger Games, everyone! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" As if. No one's happy about it, and the odds have only been in our district's favor twice. Effie goes on about how great it is to be here, and she also mentions something about a new rule, but since I'm not paying much attention, I don't hear what it is.

At last, the dreaded moment comes. "Ladies first," Effie says lightly, as she prances over to the Reaping Ball on the left. She pulls out a slip.

And I hear a name, altered almost beyond recognition with Effie's Capitol accent, but still recognizable as "Primrose Everdeen!"


	3. Chapter 3: The New Rule

A.N: Chapter 3! I know the last chapter was boring, but this is EXCITING! :) Kind of... Sorry that it's really short, I just like to leave people hanging. ;)

Disclaimer: Again, some of the dialogue is taken from the book.

The world stands still.

Did I hear that right?

Out of all those slips, what are the chances that Effie Trinket would pull out the one that has my name on it?

The kids in front of me have parted, leaving a narrow isle for me to walk through, so I decide that I really did get reaped, and walk to the stage. My fists are clenched, but I know that I will look everything but menacing to the other districts when they watch the reapings on television.

Then I hear someone calling my name. It's Katniss. I want to turn back and embrace her, but I keep on walking. Just as I'm about to mount the steps, she takes her arm and pushes me behind her. Then she says two sentences that nearly stop my heart.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" A murmur escapes from the audience, and the people onstage look confused. I'm assuming it's because we haven't had a volunteer in so long, it's been over 50 years.

Just when I think my heart's resumed it's normal routine, Effie stops it again. She gives a nervous laugh, before telling Katniss, "Were you even paying attention during the opening? The Gamemakers have made a new rule for certain districts: You're not allowed to volunteer."

Oh my god. You're not allowed to volunteer.


	4. Chapter 4: I Am Doomed

A.N: Okay, I promise you, this chapter will be LONG! Also, I'm only putting a disclaimer in every other chapter, unless it's necessary.

I'm gonna die. In our district, the word "tribute" has the same meaning as "corpse" and "doomed."

Katniss is still standing in front of me. She appears to be at a loss for words.

"Go," I whisper, brushing past her, "I can take care of myself." Possibly, I mentally add. Katniss nods and walks back to the crowd of 16-year-olds. As she does this, I walk onto the stage.

Haymitch stumbles over to me and pats me on the back. Hard. I have to place one foot in front of me to keep from falling over.

"Look at this one," he calls out to the crowd, "This'll be interesting, won't it?" How I loathe him.

Up at the podium, Effie coughs. "Well, let's have a round of applause for our newest tribute!"

There is no applause. There's a few singular claps, but nothing lasts too long. Mostly, the audience is looking at me like I'm the sorriest thing they've ever seen. I look around and see that Katniss is crying. This is bad. Very bad.

Haymitch doesn't know when to stop talking. "What's this?" he shouts out to the audience "Pitiful! Have you no-" I think he's about to say "respect," when he propels himself off the stage. And he thinks the audience is pitiful. While the camera is trained on Haymitch, I cover my face in my hands. I don't know how this could get any more humiliating.

"Well, District 12, I know it's been an eventful day, but there's still one more tribute to pick!" For once, I'm actually thankful for Effie. By the time that Effie has pulled out the boys' slip, I'm actually impatient.

"Peeta Mellark!"

A boy with blonde hair and blue eyes walks up to the podium. Not from the Seam. He looks to be about Katniss's age. Unlike other kids that have been reaped in years past, Peeta doesn't break down. He looks rather calm actually. Almost glad.

The mayor recites the Treaty of Treason. It's long and boring, but I'm not in a big hurry for him to finish. When he does finish, Effie trinket tells me and Peeta to shake hands. He gives my hand a squeeze. I'm sure that was supposed to make me feel better, but instead, I'm once again on the verge of tears. I really hope that we don't end up killing each other.

While the anthem of Panem plays, we turn to face the crowd. I see Katniss, her friend Gale, my mom, and other friends from school. I find that I can no longer hold back the tears, and as they spill down my face, all I want is to somehow repay those people for all that they've done for me.


	5. Chapter 5: Saying GoodBye

AN: This chapter is was pretty fun to write, compared to the other ones, because I didn't feel like I was following a script. Well, I was a little, but less so than with the previous chapters. I think I've made Prim a little more mature in this story than she was in the book, but it makes for a better plot...

Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins, and don't own The Hunger Games or any of the characters in this story.

After the anthem ends, Peeta and I are escorted to the Justice Building by some Peacekeepers. There, we will have one hour for our friends and family to say one final good bye to us. After that, it's off to the Capitol.

Once inside, Peeta and I are separated. I am taken into a room, and my escort leaves. The room is more luxurious than any place I've been in my entire twelve years, with a rich carpets and plush sofa and chairs made of a fabric that I think is velvet. I try to distract myself from what lies ahead by running my fingers over it and pulling my knees up to my face. I know that it's something I'll never achieve, but I've decided that if I get out of the district without shedding a tear, I'll have regained some dignity.

I keep my head buried between my legs until I hear the door click open. Its my mother.

"Prim," she says, and sits down next to me on the sofa. I put an arm around her shoulders. At least, I try to. I'm so small, I can't get all the way over to her other side.

"I'm so sorry," my mom says, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug. I lean into her touch. These may be the last moments we spend together.

"Mom," I whisper, knowing that I must say this, no matter how painful it is. "Mom, we both no that I'm not going to make it back."

"Prim, you know that's not-"

"Yes it is, mom, there's no denying it. I'm four and half feet, they're six feet. I'm twelve, they're all at least fourteen. You're just going to have to live through it. I don't remember much about when my father died, but I know that you fell into a state of depression, and Katniss took care of me. She cooked the meals, she found the food, she tried to fulfill your job as a healer, she did everything. I'll be gone, so she'll have to do less work, but if you lose the will to live, there's nothing she can do about it." I pause for a moment, letting the weight of what I just said sink in. "And the last thing Katniss needs is her entire family dead."

My mother nods. We sit in silence for a few minutes before she whispers, "I love you Prim," and leaves.

Next comes Katniss. I had been wondering where she was. I guess she just didn't feel like she could face me and our mom at the same time.

"Oh Katniss..." This time I actually stand up and walk to meet Katniss in the middle of the room. We hug. It seems like the hundredth time I've hugged someone today.

"I'm sorry they wouldn't let me volunteer, Prim."

"It's not your fault." I lean into Katniss's shoulder. "You have to take care of mom. I told her not to lose herself again, but chances are, she will, whether I get killed in the bloodbath or die of starvation two weeks in." Katniss nods sadly. "You have to keep her alive."

"I will," my sister whispers. "I really am sorry, Prim."

"I'll never stop thinking about you."

"Me neither."

Katniss pulls away from me and starts to walk towards the door. Then she turns around, pulls me into another hug, and plants a kiss on my forehead.

"Bye, Katniss."

"Bye, Prim." A half sad, half joking smile appears on her face. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor." Then she walks out.

I giggle a little. I've always loved it when Katniss imitates Effie.

A few girls that I know from school come and go, but none of these visits mean as much to me as those from my family. Mostly, they're just hugs, followed by halfhearted good-byes.

It's not until a girl name Siris walks into the room that I get another special visit. Siris is 13 or 14, and I know her because her father has been sick for a while, so she's one of my mother's most frequent customers.

Siris sighs. "Prim", she says "You're allowed to bring something from your district into the arena with you." You are? How could I not have known this? "Has anyone else gave you something?" I shake my head. "Good, because I'm going to give you this." Siris reaches into a hidden pocket in her pale yellow dress and pulls out a thick, medium length strip of white cloth, covered in lace.

She holds out the cloth and I take it. "What's this?" I ask, a little confused.

"What's left of my mother's wedding dress," Siris whispers, her golden brown eyes gleaming with tears. Oh. I understand now. Siris's mom died when she was young, and since her dad is too sick to work, the family hasn't been making any money for over a year. Siris probably had to cut up the dress to make new clothes for herself.

"Tie it around your chest and wear it under your shirt in the arena, use it as a belt, I don't care. Just do something with it." Siris closes her eyes and bows her head. Her black hair falls to create a curtain over her face.

"Thank you," I say, placing one hand on her arm and brushing the hair out of her face with the other.

Siris looks up and smiles. "You're welcome."

After she leaves, I tie the cloth around my waist. Then, I check the clock. Less than five minutes left until my hour is up. I doubt anyone will come in.


	6. Chapter 6: The Tribute Train

My last five minutes of solitude pass quickly. The moment the big hand on the clock hits the 4, the Peacekeepers come in and take me out of the Justice Building and into a car. I've never been in a car before, and when we start moving forward, I let out a little shriek, despite how smooth the ride is. I do this throughout the ride, when we speed up, or abruptly stop. Peeta will place a hand on my shoulder, and I'll realize that everyone in the car is staring at me, save the driver.

The ride to the train station is fairly short. When we arrive, it's swarming with reporters taking video of the company, which includes me Peeta, Effie, Haymitch, and one Peacekeeper that won't be coming on the train with us. We allow ourselves to be photographed and recorded for a little while. I take this as an opportunity to look up at the giant television that I'm being broadcasted onto. Though I'm usually not very good at hiding my emotions, I see that at moment, I'm doing quite a nice job of looking indifferent.

"Excuse us everyone," Effie shouts "The train to the Capitol awaits!" I can't help but laugh at Effie's manners. Then again, they do have quite an effect on all the reporters that were in our way. They've moved aside to form a clear path to the train.

After we're on the train, we have to stand in the doorway for another few minutes so the Capitol reporters can get even more footage of us. When the doors close, cutting us off from the rest of the station, the train lurches forward. Even though Haymitch is drunk, he and Effie don't seem at all fazed, and Peeta only stumbles slightly at the tremendous speed we must be going at. But I am thrown off my feet. Effie sniffs and Haymitch guffaws. Peeta holds out a hand to help me up, and I gratefully take it.

"Thanks," I mumble, looking at his face for the first time since we got to say good-bye to our friends and family. It's clear that he's been crying. I instantly wonder if he's trying to pretend he's a weakling so people will overlook him in the Games. I've seen it done at least once in almost every Hunger Games that I've watched, but only one person's ever won by doing it.

Effie shows Peeta and I to our chambers, and I am granted the privilege of solitude. This train is even fancier than my room in the Justice Building. The chamber has a bedroom, and a bathroom.

I immediately decide to take a shower, since I've never really efficiently washed myself. In District 12, I would simply scrub myself with soap, so the concept of a shower seems very appealing to me. Upon turning it on, I can see that the shower has several buttons, each with a new function. One coats me in soap with an aroma so rich and sweet it can only come from the Capitol. Another brushes out my long blonde hair. The shower also has hot water, which wasn't available in Twelve unless we boiled cold water. When I finally step out of the shower, I use another set of buttons to dry out myself and my hair.

Next, I get dressed. After throwing my reaping outfit in what I think is a laundry basket, I open one of the drawers on the gigantic dresser. It's filled with every shirt imaginable, from pink ruffles to blue tees. They all look like they would fit me perfectly. I pick out a loose fitting sky blue shirt with flowing sleeves and a big ruffled collar. There's some sort of elastic band just below the waist, which makes the shirt kind of look like a very short dress. The fabric is one that I don't recognize, but its even softer than the velvet sofa in the Justice Building. The only downside to it is the low neckline. I glance down at my chest. I hope no one else notices the small cleavage that's starting to form. The skirt I wear is very simple: It has three layers, one purple, one blue, and one green. My shoes are a pair of simple purple slippers. I walk over to a mirror and stare at my reflection. I can't remember ever looking this nice

.

I hear a loud banging on my door. "Primrose," Effie chimes "Time for dinner!" Dinner. I hope it's one of those large Capitol feasts. I see them every year while watching the victory tour, and they always make me extremely jealous.

"I'm coming!"


	7. Chapter 7: Watching the Reapings

AN: I'm back! I realize its been a while since the last update. College let out right after I posted Chapter 6, so it took a while for me find time to write this. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from the book.

I sit down at the dinner table next to Peeta. Effie's already there, but one chair is empty. As if on cue, Effie asks, "Where's Haymitch?"

"I think he took a nap," Peeta replies. I snicker a little. Being drunk probably tired him out.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," Effie says.

"Exhausting is a bit of an understatement, don't you think Peeta?" I turn to him as I say this. It's more of a statement than a question.

He nods. It's pretty clear that all three of us are glad Haymitch isn't present at the table.

When the dinner finally comes, I see that I'm not going to be disappointed. "How many courses is this meal, Effie?"

"Five," she answers offhandedly. Obviously, she doesn't know that in the Seam, two courses is plenty. Through the first three courses, Effie constantly reminds me to not stuff myself, as there's still more courses to go through, but she seems to have given up by the fourth. It's not until I've almost finished with the chocolate cake in the fifth course that I'm starting to feel full. By the time I'm done with it, I feel sick and satisfied at the same time.

Effie, who is used to having this much food every day of her life, doesn't finish for at least ten minutes after Peeta and I do. The second she's swallowed her last crumb of cake, she announces, "Now it's time to watch the reapings!"

Oh no. This is the last thing I want right now, to watch all the kids get reaped. To me, its always been the most depressing part of the pre-Games routine. The Careers are just annoying, but in the poorer districts, like 8, 11, and of course, 12, its so sad that I find myself crying while I watch it. Oh well, I can't cry here. I get up and follow Effie to a new compartment. All that's in it are chairs and a television, so I think it was probably made just for this purpose. I sit down near Peeta, on the opposite side of the room from Effie. Before any of us say a word, Effie turns on the television.

I remember a few faces. A beautiful blonde girl who skips up to volunteer in District 1- Wait, hang on a second, SHE JUST VOLUNTEERED!

"Effie," I say with a sharp edge to my voice, as an insane looking boy practically throws himself onto the stage in District 2, "I thought you said _we weren't allowed to volunteer._"

"Ah, yes, that's only in districts Eight through Twelve." Go figure.

Other faces that stand out are a confused girl who stumbles up to the stage as she is reaped in District 3, a boy from District 5 who looks like he can't wait to kill his district partner, a medium sized girl with bright red hair and a sly face. But the one tribute that really stands out is the girl from District 11. When she gets reaped, I literally think I'm seeing myself. Her name is Rue, and she has tan skin, with dark brown hair and eyes. But I think she's 12, like me, and we have the same size and build. I immediately decide to make her an ally in the arena. Neither of us will make it very far, so there's a really good chance one of us won't end up killing the other.

And now it's on to my district. I see my fists clenched and I see the hatred in my eyes, but its clear that I hate the Capitol, not my fellow tributes. As I walk up to the stage, Katniss calls my name and volunteers, and of course, Effie says the dreaded words: "You're not allowed to volunteer." You can see how desperate we are as Katniss trudges back to the area reserved for 16-year-old girls and I take my place onstage. That, combined with the drunk Haymitch and impatient Effie, is why our tributes are always somewhat of a joke to the other districts.

Effie is complaining about how Haymitch made her wig lopsided with when he tried to hug her and arguing with Peeta, when he stumbles into the room, looking even drunker than before.

"I miss supper?" Then he throws up all over the expensive carpet, and when Effie loudly sniffs, he trips and lands face first in the mess.

"So laugh away!" Effie storms out of the room.

I turn to Peeta. "'So laugh away'?"

"I was informing her of Haymitch's drinking habits, and she gave me a speech about how Haymitch was the only connection to Panem once we're in the Arena, so I shouldn't find it amusing. To sum it up, she's saying I should be scared for my life. As if I'm not already."

I can't help but smile, because what Peeta said is so true. I might be calm right now, but in the back of my mind, there's a tinge of fear, and I know it'll be there for the rest of my life. Because once I'm in the arena, I'm not coming out. That's the bitter truth, and it's no use trying to hide it.

"Peeta," I begin quietly. This seems like a huge jump from where we stand right with each other now, but I decide to say it. "I know it's only been a few hours, but since you got reaped, have you wondered how you're going to meet your end. Whether you're going to get shot with an arrow, stabbed with a knife, get some vital body part chopped off with an axe, starve, or just eat something you weren't supposed to? Because I've wondered, and something tells me that I won't die peacefully, that either a fellow tribute or the Gamemakers are going to kill me off with some cruel method."

He nods. "Yeah I've thought of that too. But I don't really care whether or not I die a peaceful death. Someone could chop my head off for all I care. I just want to die as myself, you know? Every year, twenty-four tributes go into this madness, and at the reaping, half of them are good people, but by the time the first few days in the arena are up, half of those are bloodthirsty maniacs. By the time they've reached the final eight, there's one kid in the mix that's the same person as they were when they left their district. I want to be that kid, Prim. If Panem remembers me, I want them to remember me as the boy that I am, not some crazed monster. I want them to know who I was and appreciate me for it."

I think about what Peeta has said. As much as I _don't_ want my head chopped off, he does have a point. Does it really matter if you just close your eyes and die without knowing it, if your final thoughts were of death and hate? I would rather die knowing that I was still Prim than die without knowing who I was, and thinking my sole purpose in life was to kill. "I guess you're right, Peeta. To be honest, if I had my choice, I'd want to die in the Capitol, before they have the chance to make me into someone I'm not."


	8. Chapter 8: The Chapter That Has No Title

AN: This IS NOT a Peeta x Prim story. I do not pair 16 year olds with 12 year olds. Just wanted to clear that up before anyone starts asking. And has anyone else noticed how the chapters are starting to get longer?

Also, I'm planning two new stories: One will be a oneshot about the original "boy-with-the-bread" moment (from the beginning of HG), and the other will be a longer story about an original character in the Hunger Games, a few years before Katniss.

Peeta and I turn to leave the claustrophobic compartment, and...

Haymitch is still lying facedown in his own vomit. We exchange a glance, and I nod slightly. I grab one of Haymitch's arms, and Peeta grabs the other. He's unconscious, which isn't a surprise after Peeta and I left him alone for so long. I feel a bit guilty. After all, I've spent my entire life training to be a healer, and now look what I did. Then again, if he was conscious, he'd probably be making a huge racket. We start to drag him to his room. Midway through the trip, he wakes up. I half expect him to puke, but he thankfully doesn't. He just groans loudly and continues to let himself be dragged along.

By the time that Peeta and I reach Haymitch's compartment, I'm exhausted. I don't exercise much, so I'm pretty weak. "Can you, ah, take care of him?" I ask Peeta. I really want to go to my compartment and relax while I still have the opportunity.

To my relief, Peeta says yes, and within a few short minutes, I am lying on my bed. But the thoughts that run through my head are of my impending doom, a.k.a., the Hunger Games. I relieve every moment of the day, up to this point. When I get to Siris's visit, I bolt upright.

Siris. The cloth. I run over to the laundry chute, hoping that I can see where it goes. When I stick my head into the hole, I sigh with relief. This is a train. There's only one floor. What I thought to be a laundry chute is actually...

Well, I don't what it is. It might be a trash can. But my reaping outfit is still in there. I pull my shirt out, reach into the pocket and find the cloth that Siris gave me. I hug it to my chest. It's a little dirty, but I don't care. I don't know what the Capitol washing machines will do to the fine lace, and the dirtiness kind of reminds me of home.

Home. My mom. Katniss. Gale. Siris. Life back home might've been tough, but it's better than what I'm going through right now. Sure, in the weeks leading up to the Games, I'll have every luxury the Capitol has to offer, but once I'm in the arena, I've got what? Three days? One day? An few hours? A few minutes? As far as I know, someone will kill me with brute force the second the starting gong sounds. Even if I don't participate in the initial bloodbath, the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 (who I call the Careers) will target me.

I flop back down on my bed and groan so loudly that if Peeta's back in his compartment, which is right next to mine, he can probably hear me. Peeta's the lucky one. He's 16, tall, and muscular. I'm 12, short and have no meat on my bones whatsoever. But I'm not jealous of him. He must be feeling just as bad as I do.

There's a knock on my door. I wearily get up from the bed and open it. "Peeta?"

"Hey, Prim."

"I'm assuming Haymitch is, uh, cleaned up?"

"Yeah." Peeta looks around, and there's an awkward silence. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, sure," I exclaim, stepping aside so he can fit through the doorway.

I sit down on a sofa, and he sits next to me. "I'm, um, sorry about Katniss, Prim."

"Well, better me than her, if you know what I mean. Without me, Katniss and my mom will be just fine. One less mouth to feed. Without Katniss, well, we'd be dead in a few months."

Peeta nods solemnly. "I know what you mean. My family will also be fine without me. I've got a bunch of brothers, one boy won't make a difference."

I look up at him thoughtfully. So even Peeta, the baker's son, knows what it's like to be insignificant. "I wish I was Katniss..."

As I say this, a strange look passes over Peeta's face. A sort of... realization? "I love her, you know. Katniss. Always have. Considering I'll be dead in a matter of days, I probably always will."

Peeta says this in such a casual way that it takes a few seconds for the full meaning of what he's said to sink in. When I realize what he's just stated, I forget all the manners my mother taught me and say, "WHAT?" Then I realize that I'm not being polite and calmly ask, "But, well, how do you even know her? She's from the Seam, and you're well, not from the Seam."

"Um, well, one day at school, the teacher asked if anyone knew the Valley Song, and Katniss did, so she went up to the front of the class and sang it, and she had a really nice voice. We were only about seven, but when I saw her up there, I knew that I loved her."

Peeta's face is turning red as he says this, and I feel a little bad that I asked how he knew Katniss. But I'm also curious, and I can tell there's more to the story, so I say, very carefully, "Was there anything else that happened?"

He turns even redder. "Yes," he whispers, "A few years ago, er, right after you father, ah, died, I saw Katniss walking around by my house. I could tell she was looking for food, so I purposely burnt a few bread rolls. Of course, my mother wouldn't let me sell them to customers, so she told me to go out and feed them to the pigs. But I didn't feed them to the pigs. I gave them to Katniss." It takes a bit of thinking, but I soon remember the day he's talking about. One day, Katniss came home with rolls that I knew couldn't have been cheap. Our mom asked how much she spent on them, but she said they were a gift, thought she wouldn't say who it was from. Now I know.

"Now you know what?" Peeta says, obviously confused. Oops. I hadn't noticed that I had voiced my last thought.

"Nothing," I say, and then yawn. "Well, Peeta, I think I'm going to bed. 'Night."

"Good night, Prim."

After Peeta leaves, I change into orange flannel pajamas that are by far the softest things I've felt today (and I've felt a lot of soft things), then climb into bed.

As I bury my small face into the huge pillow, I sigh. I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a big, big day.


	9. Intermission

Sorry, but this isn't really a chapter. Like the title says, its more of an intermission. Just a brief news update. First of all, I've decided to do this story in parts, just like in HG. Up to chapter 8 was "The Tributes," and after chapter 9 will be "The Games." Just like in the first book.

Here's a basic summary of "The Tributes":

Prim Everdeen is a 12 year old girl living in a poor area of District 12 in Panem. Though the odds were one out of thousands, she has been chosen to participate in the Hunger Games, along with Peeta Mellark, the son of a baker. Prim knows that she has no chance in the Hunger Games, which is a cruel event that features 24 teenagers ages 12-18 to kill each other. The last one alive wins. The day before the Opening Ceremonies, Prim finds out that Peeta is in love with her sister, Katniss.

Sorry if that was hard to follow, I suck at summarizing :( Chapter 9 coming up!


	10. Chapter 9: Fighting

AN: So, how did you guys enjoy the moment where Peeta admits his love for Katniss to Prim? I liked the beginning, but I wasn't sure what to say towards the end... Anyways, welcome to Part 2: The Games!

I wake up to intense banging on my door, accompanied by Effie Trinket's high-pitched voice. "Today is a big, big day!" she calls "Upupupup!"

I groan as I sit up. My sleep was filled of various dreams, one of being trapped in an immense desert with no one but the Career Tributes, another of being stuck in a tree with Rue, and another of a rather disturbing scene featuring Peeta and Katniss.

Effie is still making a racket, so I shout, "I'm up, I'm up. Give me a minute to get dressed!" The banging stops.

Today, I wear a brown, shimmery tube top with black pants. I like the top because I can wear Siris's lace as a scarf without it looking like it's not supposed to be there, and compared to the brown, the slightly dirty fabric looks fairly clean. After getting dressed, I determine what to do with the clothes from yesterday and my pajamas. As I search my large cabin, I eventually find a basket labeled "LAUNDRY." I dump everything in it, then head into the dining compartment.

Effie, Haymitch, and Peeta are already there, munching on a delicious-looking oatmeal. I know, how does oatmeal look delicious? It just does, okay? Luckily, it looks as if they've saved some for me, so I won't be starving when I get to meet my team of stylists. Ugh. My team of stylists. Every year, the stylist for District 12 dresses up their tribute in one of the following: Black dust and nothing but black dust, a black bathing suit and a headlamp, or a miner's outfit. This is one of the reasons that our tributes never get sponsors.

Breakfast is relatively uneventful, Effie is giving Peeta and me tips on how to make the crowd love us in the ceremony, but I'm only half listening, because the tips I catch are obvious things like, "Don't look afraid, look happy," "Smile and wave to the audience," or "Stick your chest out," which makes me burst, "Effie, why the heck would I stick my chest out?"

Aside from the oatmeal, there's also fresh bread rolls (not burnt, thank God,) exotic fruits, eggs, ham, bacon, you name it. And there's also this drink they call hot cocoa, that quickly becomes my new favorite drink.

My stomach feels like it'll explode at any second, so I take in my "comrades," as I'm now starting to think of them, though I don't know why. Peeta is dipping bread in hot cocoa, which seems like it would taste bad, but I don't comment. Effie is daintily eating her breakfast in careful bites. Haymitch doesn't have a crumb on his plate, but he keeps combining his juice with some sort of spirit. This I do comment on.

"Last time I checked, Haymitch, mentors were supposed to set an example for their tributes." I pause for a second. "And drinking liquor for breakfast is not a good example."

To my surprise, Peeta supports me. "Yeah, Haymitch, give us some advice, won't you?"

"Okay, stay alive!" And then he cracks up. Peeta knocks the glass out of his hand, and it shatters, spilling the spirit all over him, and a little on me. Without thinking, I unwrap Siris's lace from my neck, fold it in half, and swing it with all my strength. It hits Haymitch across the cheek, making a snapping sound. For a moment, I'm shocked that I didn't miss, but once the feeling subsides, I cover my face with the fabric, preparing for another hit. And it comes.

When I feel Haymitch's fist come in contact with my side, I don't have time to think before I fall out of my chair. "Effie," I gasp. The punch combined with the fall knocked the wind out of me. Someone puts their arms around my waist and lifts me up. But it's Peeta, not Effie. Her chair is empty, so I'm assuming she left when the fight started.

"Haymitch!" I can tell that Peeta is really mad. "What are you trying to do? Kill us before we even get in the arena? Sorry Haymitch, but you're going to have to improve your teaching strategy if you want either of us to have a chance of coming out of this thing alive!"

"Honestly, can't you see that we both hate you? Don't you want to change that?" After saying this, I inhale deeply. Whatever Haymitch did to me, it can't be good. "Anyway, I'm going back to my cabin to," I fake cough "See if there's a bruise forming."

And I quickly exit, before Peeta or Haymitch can stop me.


	11. Chapter 10: The Capitol

AN: Hello! I'm back to work on this story! Once again, I apologize for the short chapter. One, I wanted to get this story moving again. Two, CLIFFHANGERS! Who doesn't love 'em? Well, enjoy this chapter despite it's lack of words. Cinna was hard to portray, I hope I did him alright. As always, review!

* * *

"Who did this?"

I'm in a room with my stylist, Cinna. My prep team has just finished making me over, so now the stylist has to come and see me. Cinna has just noticed the giant bruise on the side of my ribcage, but there's no way I'm going to tell him that Haymitch did it.

"That?" I ask, as if I didn't realize it was there. "Hmm, I don't know where I got that bruise. Maybe while I was doing chores around the house, I bumped into something? I really haven't noticed it until now." That was, of course, a terrible lie, but I think I sounded convincing enough.

"Really?" Cinna asks "It's very large, and it looks like it would hurt terribly." Yeah, it hurts like hell. But I just shrug, getting impatient. Cinna looks like he wants to say something, but instead he simply instructs me to put my robe back on (which I'm very grateful for) and to follow him into a room where we will eat lunch.

When I walk into the room after Cinna, I gasp. There are many large windows, all showing a view of the colorful city, just starting to light up as the sun sets. It's beautiful, but somehow manages to fill me with anger. Cinna presses a button on the table, and almost instantly, a large meal appears. My mouth falls open. All the citizens of the Capitol must take the idyllic world they live in for granted. They have no idea what it's like in District 12.

Cinna must see me gaping out the window, because he says in an eerily calm voice, "I suspect that this is quite a change from your district."

I turn back to him. "A ridiculously large one."

"You'd better get used to it, or all your meals will start like this." He starts eating his lunch, and accepting that the whole thing is for me, I do the same.

Cinna begins to fire question after question at me. All of my answers are monotonous and non-descript, because although he doesn't seem to be typical of the Capitol, I don't trust him. Somewhere in there, I catch that this is his first year in the Games. This doesn't surprise me.

"So they gave you my district," I interrupt. "Because you're new, they gave you District 12. That's what they always do. No one wants this district."

Cinna shrugs. "I asked for District 12. Anyway, it's about time we get to your costume for the Opening Ceremonies."

I sigh. This whole thing is so simple. "I'll be dressed in some sort of skimpy coal mining outfit."

"No, actually you won't. We're not focusing on the mining this year, but the actual coal."

"So I'll be dressed as actual coal."

"Again, no. Prim, what do we do with coal?"

And that's when it hits me. "Um, burn it..." Well, at least I'll die before I get into the arena.


End file.
